Another Word for Paradise
by roktavor
Summary: "Is that my shirt, dude?"


**A/N:** For Josuyasu week day 4 prompt: Clothes Swap.

...I realize this prompt lends itself better to fanart, but. I couldn't help but write some clothes sharing.

* * *

 **Another Word for Paradise**

It's an otherwise nondescript Thursday, except for the one _tiny_ detail that catches Josuke's eye.

They're walking to school – same as every morning – when Okuyasu gestures with his arm to exaggerate some part of the story he's telling, and the movement makes his uniform jacket ride up more than usual. Josuke's gaze is drawn to that new gap, and he spots soft purple fabric that looks to be bizarrely form-fitting – for Okuyasu's taste, anyway.

Not only that, but even from the small section he can see, Josuke can tell that it's expensive and well-made. It doesn't have that same faded look to it that Okuyasu's clothes tend to have, by virtue of being worn and re-worn until they can't be.

…And Josuke is pretty sure he's been missing his favorite purple tank top. This is too suspicious, all things considered.

"Is that my shirt, dude?" he asks, when that stitching keeps looking more and more familiar.

"Huh?" Okuyasu pauses mid-story to look down at himself. He tugs his jacket up to look at what Josuke knows is 100% cotton clothing his stomach, scrunching his brows. "Is it? Thought it was kinda nice for one'a mine…."

"Pretty sure." They've stopped walking by now, and Josuke steps closer so he can run his fingers over the fabric. Feeling it only confirms his suspicion about the cotton percentage.

Okuyasu squirms away, tugging his jacket down as a couple giggles escape. "That tickles, Josuke!"

"Sorry," Josuke says, half laugh, his face automatically smiling to match Okuyasu's. He moves his hand, pinching the fabric this time and rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, this is mine," he says, "I must've left it at your place when I spent the night."

He releases the shirt, smoothing out the little wrinkle left behind, and again, Okuyasu shies away from the touch – so of course Josuke pokes some more, until Okuyasu is laughing and smacking his hand away in earnest. "Stoppit!"

"It's what you get for stealing my shirt." It really isn't – Josuke doesn't mind at all, but that's easier to say than 'you're adorable when you laugh like that'.

Okuyasu, having taken a step aside to escape the tickling, moves back in to bump their shoulders together. "D'you want it back?"

"No, that's fine." Josuke is aware that he answered that far too fast, and now will probably have some explaining to do. He can't really articulate how _nice_ it is, to see Okuyasu wearing his clothes. "It's…" he trails off, stuck staring at that strip of purple again.

Okuyasu follows his line of sight, frowning. Grabbing his uniform, he lifts it a little, bending to peer down at himself as they walk. His frown only intensifies at the way his soft stomach bunches with the action. "Does it look bad?" he asks, pulling his shirt back down and holding it there with both hands. "S'kinda…tight, isn't it?"

"Nah," Josuke says, too fast yet again. Time for honesty of the 'you're adorable when you laugh like that' level – he can already feel himself blushing. "It suits you."

"But I'm –"

Josuke _can't_ let him finish that, so he loops his arm around Okuyasu's shoulders and tugs him in close. If he presses his nose to Okuyasu's temple like this, he won't have face the daunting task of _looking him in the eye_ as he compliments him. Along with the added bonus of it feeling intimate. Baby steps.

"Your pudge is cute," he mumbles, feeling his face redden by the second, "the shirt looks great."

The way Okuyasu's entire face heats up is gratifying, so Josuke counts his own embarrassment as worth it.

"Th-thanks…!"

x

Standing in his bedroom, Josuke stares down at the sleeveless top in his hands, contemplating.

It belongs to Okuyasu, of course, left here after he spent the night. Josuke can't remember if it was intentional – some of Okuyasu's things live here, after all, since he's over so often – or unintentional, but that's not what really matters right now.

What matters _right now_ is the question of whether or not Josuke should wear it.

Okuyasu's clothes are different than his own in that they're bought with more regard for reasonable price, and soft from wear rather than expensive fabric choice. They tend to be more ragged, especially his pajamas, and still somehow smell like him even after going through the wash at Josuke's place. It's a comforting thing.

This particular shirt that Josuke is pondering over is a dark blue color, mildly frayed at the edges, with a little hole along one of the side seams. Josuke can remember Okuyasu wearing it – the color had looked great against his skin tone, the fabric loose over his broad shoulders….

Josuke is paler, and he knows his own shoulders are nothing to sneeze at, but he may not be able to fill out the shirt as well as Okuyasu. And yet…that could be a charm point…possibly…?

The sound of the front door opening and closing interrupts his musing. It's closely followed by an all-too-familiar call of, "Joooosukeee!"

Split second decision it is, then! He's not quite at the level where he wants to face Okuyasu shirtless for a simple sleepover, so Josuke tosses on the shirt.

As he clambers out of his room and down the stairs, he realizes that he was right – he's getting more of a breeze than he would in his own tank tops. Because that's another thing about Okuyasu's clothes: he wears them looser than Josuke does, _and_ since Okuyasu is a little thicker (in some places) than Josuke, too, he always finds himself with plenty of room in his boyfriend's clothes.

So, no, he doesn't _quite_ fill out the shirt as well as Okuyasu, and it's even more of a difference than he'd been expecting. It remains to be seen how well this will be taken.

"Hey, Okuyasu!" he greets, stamping down the urge to blush. At the bottom of the stairs, he tries to pose as casual as possible, so as to not make it obvious what he's doing.

…Truth be told, he's been waiting for an opportunity to wear something of Okuyasu's since the purple shirt incident.

Okuyasu beams at him from where he's toeing off his shoes, which are the only daytime clothing he's wearing. He's got on grey sweatpants and a plum colored t-shirt – both of which are unfairly attractive on him. "Josuke! I brought stuff," he says, brandishing the bag dangling from his wrist. From the looks of it, it contains too many snacks, as well as a couple movies.

Because he's close enough to do so now, Josuke leans down to kiss him, slow and careful as he cups Okuyasu's cheek. "Thanks," he murmurs against his mouth, not quite pulling away.

"No – no problem!" Okuyasu's eyes are wide and shining, and Josuke can _feel_ the shy grin on his lips where their mouths are still touching.

After a beat of silence spent staring into each other's eyes, Okuyasu ducks his head with a chuckle. Josuke follows the impulse that hits him to plant a kiss on his nose, too. He's unsure where all this confidence is coming from – though he is willing to blame the shirt.

"Josuke…!"

Josuke rubs his thumb just under Okuyasu's eye. "Hm?"

"You're killin' me, bro," Okuyasu says, even as he places his own palm over Josuke's hand on his cheek. He's also definitely blushing.

Unwilling to fight off his grin, Josuke gives Okuyasu one more kiss, this one the back of his hand. "Sorry, babe."

Okuyasu makes some sort of choked up, flustered, _cute_ noise at the term of endearment, pulling their hands from his face to try and clumsily intertwine them. Untangling his hand from Okuyasu's, Josuke helps a little by offering it back at an easier angle.

With his free hand he snags the shopping bag from Okuyasu, swinging it as he heads for the living room. He tugs Okuyasu along behind him with their connected hands, proud of them both for avoiding sweaty palms so far.

After that, it doesn't take long for them to get settled. The bag of snacks tipped over on the coffee table, a stack of movies for later off to the side, and a pile of blankets on the floor that might wind up as their bed tonight if they're too lazy to head up to Josuke's room. Mario Kart is booted up, and they're ready to go.

It's only the second lap when Okuyasu stops responding to taunts. Josuke, immediately curious, glances over to see that his half of the screen is stagnated, vehicle stalled while the computer players pass him one after another.

Distracted from his own questionably successful race, Josuke turns to look over at his boyfriend –

– Only to discover that _he himself_ is what's got Okuyasu ignoring the game, apparently.

There's nothing else in the general vicinity for Okuyasu to be staring at, anyway. Or, at least, Josuke hopes not, what with the sheer focus in his eyes. That gaze is lingering somewhere around (or below?) Josuke's shoulders.

Deciding this calls for experimentation, Josuke sits up from where he'd been slouching forward with his elbows on his knees. As he watches, Okuyasu's eyes follow the movement, as if they're locked on him.

"What is it, Oku?" he asks, because while the look in Okuyasu's eyes is on the enamored side, it still makes Josuke more self-aware than he was previously. His fingers twitch against his controller, itching to tug at his shirt but afraid that'll draw even more attention.

"Your shirt," Okuyasu mumbles, before he seems to remember himself. He blinks out of his stupor and shifts his gaze up to Josuke's face, cheeks going pink. "It looks…looks good on you! Brings out your, uh, eyes."

That blush, though, has Josuke all too aware that his eyes are _not_ the only part of him that Okuyasu has been ogling. It makes him want to blush in return. "Thanks."

Despite the fact that they come in 11th and 12th in Mario Kart, Josuke thinks tonight is going pretty damn well so far.

The power of boyfriend shirts is stronger than he had been expecting.

x

"Josuke," Okuyasu mutters from behind his hands a couple of hours later. The parts of his face that Josuke can still see peeking out are bright red. "Josuke, please change your shirt."

Leaning across the table in pursuit of a new handful of chips, Josuke pauses. "…What?"

Sitting on the floor next to him, Okuyasu makes a mortified noise and angles his head down. His hands are still pressed over his face, muffling his voice a little. "Change y…your shirt. Please."

That prompts a crooked grin to spread over Josuke's face. "Why, dude?" he asks, although he kind of sort of maybe has a suspicion of potentially knowing _exactly_ why.

In lieu of a verbal response, Okuyasu thunks his head-hands-hybrid down on the coffee table in front of them. He's clearly in some form of distress, but flustered Okuyasu happens to be way too damn adorable.

"Why?" Josuke repeats. He sits back on his knees, forgoing the chips in favor of poking at Okuyasu's shoulder. "It's your shirt, y'know."

Another squeak escapes Okuyasu, and his hands creep up towards his hair, freeing his mouth. "I know!" he says. "S'just that…ya got – it's…kinda loose on you, and, uh – you keep _leanin'_ …!"

Josuke looks down at his own chest. Leans forward experimentally. Heh.

…Oh.

 _Oh_.

"Oh," he says.

He does kind of sort of maybe know _exactly_ why after all. And it's a little more, uh, dramatic than he was imagining.

Face and hands still pressed to the coffee table, Okuyasu nods vigorously. "I'm sorry, I can't stop starin'!"

"So _that's_ why you kept spacing out on me," Josuke says, and, really, he can't help but laugh. If he doesn't, his blush will be worse – though he can't imagine getting as red as Okuyasu is currently.

"I didn't mean to!" Okuyasu wails, finally lifting his face from the table and peeling his hands away from it. He blinks despairingly over at Josuke, mouth set in a little pout and everything.

Josuke, despite himself, just keeps _laughing_ , snickering into his hand. "'Brings out my eyes' huh?"

"Hey! I – I really meant that!" Okuyasu leans over, pointing into his face. His mouth is twitching, almost like he's fighting the urge to laugh along so he can get his point across. "Blue looks good on you, 'cause your eyes…y'know!"

After a moment, Josuke's giggling dies down. "You're fuckin' adorable, Okuyasu," he says, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "And you can stare at my cleavage all you want."

Okuyasu makes a scandalized sound, almost like a squawk. "It's distractin', an – and that's the only reason you won Mario Kart!"

"Sore loser," Josuke accuses.

"You never win otherwise, bro – y-you suck at video games!"

"Fine," Josuke says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. He'll address that comment about sucking at video games later, but for now: "I'll go change."

"Th-thank you." Just like that, Okuyasu is a blushing mess again, and Josuke doesn't miss the way his eyes dart down to his chest briefly. "You can borrow a t-shirt, if you want," he offers on a mumble, "I know I left some of those around, too…."

Josuke takes him up on that, sure – but it doesn't mean he's about to give back the tank top.

It's very comfortable pajamas, after all.

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 **A/N:** I had a couple more scenarios planned, but I thought it went best leaving just the tank top swap.

Song title is Another Word for Paradise by Vicky-t. It's got absolutely nothing to do with this fic, but it is cute, just like Josuyasu.

Thanks for reading.


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